Stars: 3.5/5
Read it if: You’re the kind of person who makes jokes at wildly inapproriate moments.
Liked it? Read these!: Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett; The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams
The Book:
God is a teenage boy. He never cleans up his messes and he’s perpetually horny. Will the earth survive when he falls in love?

The title doesn't lie, there is no dog in this book. But there are a lot of whales doing odd, un-whale-like things.
The Talk:
Confession time – this is only the second of Meg Rosoff’s five novels I’ve read. Her first, How I Live Now was one of the best books I’ve ever read. It also made me want to crawl under a rock and die. So, out of a confusing mix of feeling like Rosoff couldn’t possibly top her first novel and not wanting to feel as bad as that book made me feel anytime soon, I’m woefully unfamiliar with her other works.
It didn’t surprise me that Rosoff was taking on God in her newest book. She’s one of the darkest and most irreverent YA authors out there, and she’s always been willing to go where other authors fear to tread.
What did surprise me was how comparatively hopeful, and almost wistful, this book was (again, compared to the one other one I’ve read). It’s not all rainbows and unicorns (more like flash floods and oddly behaving sea-creatures) but there is a playful quality to it that I wasn’t expecting. In the vein of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the characters wonder about the meaning of existence while the impossible and ridiculous happens around them.
Bob, the boy who wins the privilege of becoming the earth’s omnipotent ruler because of his mother’s excellent poker skills, is constantly putting the people he supposedly cares about in danger. The more he feels, the more danger there is, as Lucy, the current object of his lustful eye, finds out first hand. Bob causes deathly heat waves while in the throws of his passion, and deadly floods when their love dies. We puny humans can’t make floods and we can’t stop them, but Rosoff gives a small glimmer of hope as the waters recede that maybe our real power is in having no power at all.
I enjoyed the catastrophic twists and turns Bob took me on, but Bob himself concerned me. I had no problem with him as the earth’s incompetent deity; explaining cruel and senseless twists of fate as the side-effect of a completely self-absorbed being is a stroke of Rosoff’s dark brilliance. What nagged at me wasn’t Rosoff’s characterization of God, it was her characterization of teenage boys. What’s her issue with teen boys? I wondered as I read it. Because I grew up with one, and he was a little stinky and could have changed his sweat pants more often and it was confusing that two years when he just grunted at us, but he was and continues to be smart and kind and generally pretty great. All the monosyllables and weird basement smells were balanced out by redeeming moments. But Bob never has a redeeming moment. He acts like a human in his selfishness, but he doesn’t get any of the good qualities that most of us have deep down somewhere. And maybe that’s Rosoff’s point – that Bob, unlike us, has absolute flaws, but it never stopped me from hoping he might catch a break and become just a little more human.
If you’re into twisted humour mixed in with your exestentialism, this book’s for you!











